


Domino Motion

by vaudevilles



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudevilles/pseuds/vaudevilles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris had always thought that games of 'I Never' were just an excuse for college kids who were too shy to start in on the all-out orgy without some kind of lead up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domino Motion

Chris had always thought that games of 'I Never' were just an excuse for college kids who were too shy to start in on the all-out orgy without some kind of lead up. Not that he'd ever managed to stick around long enough for the actual multiple participant stuff to happen when he'd been at college. He'd always been far too distracted by rectifying the sad lack of experience of Tina, or Georgia, or Greg, or Christina, or whichever date he was with at the time.

So it was weird to be speeding through Nebraska on the bus and watching Justin gaze up at the ceiling as he slurred out that never ever had he ever, ever, thought of his mother like that. Chris chugged back his twelfth? thirteenth? tequila slammer and prayed that Justin was too drunk to remember this in the morning. Though, by the way that Joey was guiltily wiping his mouth and JC was contentedly slurping on yet another lime, at least he wasn't going to end up the only victim of a Timberlake freak out.

Lance, of course, was looking at them all as if they were something he'd found on the bottom of an out of style shoe. Which was completely unfair as the game and, more importantly, the two bottles of tequila, had been his idea in the first place.

In fact, Lance had been remarkably restrained whenever it was his turn, avoiding anything sexual, keeping it to gross-out food and filthy personal habits. Joey, of course, had gone straight for the prurient stuff. Chris took a moment to congratulate himself for remembering such a fine word in the midst of being completely trashed, and then spent much longer trying to figure out whether prurient meant what he thought it did. Whatever. Joey had used his first turn on 'never have I ever gone down on a girl while she's on the rag' and guffawing while Justin and Lance turned different shades of sickly white. Then JC had wandered through a turn involving twins, honey and imaginary fuck machines, which lead to an even longer explanation of said machines for Justin, involving replacement dildos, thermodynamics and sanitization. The drinking had slowed down temporarily for that, except for Chris who'd been imbibing for the sake of his sanity.

Chris tilted his head to one side as the bus rounded a corner and looked at Lance. Lance still seemed quite sober, as if all the smutty statements emanating from the rest of them had left him untouched and pure. From that thought it was pretty much impossible for Chris not to imagine Lance dressed as the Virgin Mary and he giggled into his shot glass as he cleaned it out with his tongue. There was never any excuse to let good liquor go to waste.

The last dregs of tequila were zinging around his mouth as Chris glanced up and caught Lance staring at him. Lance's lips were slightly parted and the look in his eyes chased all thoughts of anything remotely innocent out of Chris's head. It was like being looked at by a volcano. A sacrificial-virgin-eating volcano. Chris blinked. Surely green eyes shouldn't be able to look that scorching? And then Lance spoke, and it was volcanic rumbling, deep enough to reach into Chris's stomach and set things in motion. Things that he didn't think about and didn't do. Not any more.

"Never have I ever held a guy down and rimmed him till he begged to be fucked."

Uh. What? Chris closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them Lance's gaze was still pouring over him like lava. Chris's throat was dry and his tongue felt swollen, "Uh. What?"

Lance just kept looking at him as he spoke. "I said, never," Lance licked a stripe down his hand. "Have I ever," Lance's arm was completely steady as he salted the glistening patch on his hand. "Held a guy down," Lance barely looked downwards as he poured the tequila into his glass. "And rimmed him," the glass hit the table with a thud and then Lance was swallowing the liquor down, his throat working once before his eyes were back on Chris' face. "Till he begged to be fucked." Lance swiped his hand across his lips and sat back in his chair, eyes molten with something Chris was beginning to recognize as promise.

Chris's mouth was suddenly dry. And flapping open.

After what seemed like hours Chris remembered to close his mouth. He managed to swallow, but only because he'd finally dragged his eyes away from Lance's face. Lance's mouth. Lance's lips, which were being moistened every few seconds by Lance's tongue. Oh God.

Chris closed his eyes, but it was like he'd been looking at the sun and there was nothing but Lance's image, red and gleaming behind his eyelids. He could hear the engine of the bus clearly and as the wheels ran over the joins in the tarmac Chris held on to the rhythm as if it could save him from the fiery pits of hell. Or the fiery pits of whatever Lance was planning.

Hold up. He could actually hear the bus noise, which meant none of the others were guffawing with laughter at Lance's depravity or poking fun at Chris's reaction. That seemed a little... odd.

Chris opened his eyes, judiciously turning his head slightly first so he didn't have to see Lance or his weirdly mesmerizing face. JC was leaning back against the couch and gazing at him like Chris was a cross between the perfect melody and a matched pair of bisexual girls with pink dildoes. He wasn't smiling. Chris turned away from JC and caught Joey's eye. Joey _was_ smiling, but it wasn't a 'you lovable bozos are all fucking insane' smile. Instead Joey's face was curved into the smile Chris had watched him use to turn uncountable women to jelly. Chris was suddenly glad he was sitting down and didn't have to test the solidity of his legs. Fuck.

Slightly desperate now, Chris looked towards where Justin was prone on the rug, table pushed to one side to make room for his sprawling legs. Justin had his face turned towards where Chris was hogging the single armchair, but his eyes were softly out of focus and one hand was slowly stroking the bulge in his jeans.

"Jesus." Chris wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to get the word out past the drums in his chest beating time with the wheels on the road. He looked around for a television crew, certain he was about to appear on _Candid Camera_ in a segment that would blow the minds of their pre-teen fans. No cameras. Maybe he'd been sucked through a wormhole into some kind of alternate universe where *nsync were a bunch of porn stars?

"What the _hell_ are you guys doing?" Chris tightened his grip on the plushy arms of the chair and tried to still the knee that was jumping like someone had poured ants into the joint.

Lance's voice could have doubled for Barry White, "Geez Chris, you're not normally this slow. Didn't you catch a clue from the game of 'I Never' that we wanted to seduce you?"

Chris blinked. Slowly. And looked around the room again. JC had crawled over to Justin and was licking up the side of his neck, leg planted firmly between Justin's now bucking thighs. Joey was watching them avidly and stroking himself through his pants. "Seduce... you're seducing me? All of you? Together? Even Joey?" Chris checked again for the TV crew. Nothing. "Fuck me. Did someone spike the tequila with slutty drugs while I wasn't looking?"

Joey had transferred his gaze from the writhing boys on the floor and was looking at Chris. He'd partially unbuttoned his pants and his hand was working up the seam, his breathing hitching slightly as he spoke, "I'm not fucking any of you bendy shitheads, but watching you all going for it is better than porn."

That made a weird sort of sense. Joey did like to watch. And JC and Justin had been fuck-buddies for years whenever they weren't writing music together, Chris had heard them enough, and had even jerked off to their perfectly fucking harmonized moans on more than one occasion. Ok, several occasions. Several dozen occasions if you wanted to be picky about it.

But Lance? Chris couldn't rid himself of the image of terrified seventeen year old Lance coming out to them all in Germany. He'd been so careful to reassure them all that they were like his brothers and he wasn't attracted to them, that it had sounded like pod-interview-Lance and Chris kept expecting to hear him declaim that he liked riding horses and didn't miss home because being in *nsync was so exciting. Obviously pod-interview-Lance had some magical convincing power because Chris was now reeling with the thought that Lance found _any_ of them remotely sexually attractive. Let alone _all_ of them.

Chris was brought back to the exceedingly freaky present, where the bus had apparently turned into The Brotherhood of the Traveling Orgy, by a familiar moan. Justin was naked, JC's head busy in his lap while JC humped Justin's leg with exactly the little bouncing hip thrust he used to drive girls mad in _Space Cowboy_. Joey had his cock out, stroking it with one hand and lightly tugging at his balls with the other. The three of them were, Chris had to admit, hotter than a barbecue in the Sahara.

And then there was a warm breath on the back of his neck. Fuck. He'd lost sight of Lance and the sneaky bastard had crept up behind him and was, oh fuck, sucking on his neck. That was absolutely not fair. Lance had seen Dani do that, seen how it turned Chris into a puddle of panting lust. Just as long as Lance hadn't figured out that if he actually bit down on Chris's trapezius... Oh fuck. _Fuck._ He tried to tell Bass to stop, but the only thing that came out was a strangled groan that just got louder as Lance's hand moved down his torso and cupped Chris through his jeans.

Lance mouthed at Chris's shoulder with a final nibbling lick, his hands busy undoing Chris's fly around the swiftly expanding impediment of Chris's dick as he said. "Hey, C, stop blowing Justin for a bit will you? I need you to suck Chris off for me."

JC was holding Justin's hips down, his head bobbing like Justin was a particularly intransigent apple, but he pulled away from Justin's crotch obediently on Lance's instruction and looked over at the armchair. JC's pupils were enormous and his lips were shiny wet and pink as he slowly focused on Chris and Lance. Chris almost asked if there'd been a terrible lip-gloss accident, but JC was wiping his mouth as he sat up, and Lance's cool hand was finally inside Chris's boxers doing fabulously dirty things to his cock, and whatever quip Chris had in his head abandoned ship.

Justin had been arched back on the carpet, his eyes closed and pleading around the fist in his mouth. "Jesus... C, your mouth. God." He was so far gone that it took a moment or two after JC pulled off him for Justin to sit up, managing to look both unbelievably turned on and unbelievably pissed. "Bass you fucker, let a guy come already... Oh." Justin's eyes met Chris's and he glanced down at Chris's groin, where Lance's hand was moving leisurely inside Chris's underwear, causing Chris to shift his hips upwards in tiny jerks, desperate to get more pressure. A smile Chris had never seen before rolled across Justin's face and he licked his lips. "Oh. Yeah? _Yeah._ Lance, can I?"

Chris could feel Lance nod against his shoulder as JC stripped out of his remaining clothing and Justin began playing with himself, gaze flicking back and forth between Chris, JC, and Joey. Joey had his jeans round his knees and was holding the base of his cock with one hand and stroking himself firmly with the other, and, Jesus, but the three of them were beautiful. Whoever had made Bass King of the World should be canonized, and possibly deified, and Chris was definitely going to be a chief acolyte and worship at the shrine of... Chris's thoughts stuttered to a halt as Lance's hand moved lightly but surely over his dick and his two naked band-mates crawled across the floor towards him.

It was like taking off in the Concorde; Chris kept waiting for the sonic boom to hit. And then there were three pairs of hands on him and the pit of his stomach dropped away.

Lance bit his shoulder muscle again and sucked, tongue swirling as his teeth sent shivers up Chris's spine. Chris couldn't help the moan that came out of his mouth as Lance began jerking him off agonizingly slowly, his hand looser at the base of Chris's cock and tightening as it reached the head, ending with an almost brutal corkscrew motion that drove Chris's hips into the air in search of more.

JC was working some kind of magic to get Chris's jeans and boxers off, completely focused on his task, hands hot and careful, timing it perfectly so that every hip thrust Chris made exposed more and more of his body.

Meanwhile Justin had been attacking the buttons on Chris's shirt with the sort of unswerving dedication he brought to testing out a new keyboard. Chris was temporarily bewildered by the fact that Justin was unbuttoning the shirt one handed, which seemed like an added layer of unnecessary technical difficulty, then he looked down, saw that Justin was grasping his own cock in the other hand, trying to keep some kind of control, and nearly lost what remained of his own control entirely. "Jesus, J. So _ fucking_ hot."

Chris let his head fall back onto Lance's shoulder, his face felt like it was on fire, all the blood in the universe was pooling in his crotch, and he had no idea how long his stamina was going to hold out against such a concerted attack. Lance made an amused sound in his ear and shifted to sit on the arm of the chair so his hand could caress Chris's balls, leaving Chris's abandoned cock bobbing in the air.

JC had finally gotten Chris's pants and underwear off, throwing them away to one side, narrowly missing Joey who was muttering a repetitive "fuck yeah" under his breath as he thrust into his own hand. Then JC began kissing up the inside of Chris's right leg, tongue swirling through the dark hair, nibbling and licking as he moved higher. His fingers soothing over Chris's knees felt like the only thing keeping Chris from floating off into the stratosphere. Then JC bit into the big muscle at the top of Chris's thigh, his cheek bumping Chris's cock once, twice, as he sucked, mouth impossibly far from where Chris really wanted him.

Justin's satisfied grunt pulled Chris's attention back to where Justin was flicking open Chris's last shirt button. Justin moved both his hands to Chris's head, drawing Chris in towards him. His mouth wasn't gentle, but it felt almost tentative, tongue swiping across Chris's lips but not demanding anything. Oh holy mother of fuck. Justin was kissing him. Justin. Was kissing him. And, fuck yeah, but Chris was kissing back, no more of this tentative shit, it was hot and wet and nasty, Chris's tongue deep in Justin's mouth, Justin moaning and trying to get closer, Chris almost growling with the need to press himself into Justin, to get deeper, taste more. Chris's hands were on Justin's hips trying to drag him forward onto his lap, trying to get more friction than Lance's infuriatingly leisurely and random touches to his cock and balls had been providing.

Lance tightened his fist warningly around Chris's cock. He had been murmuring belly-deep whispers into Chris's ear, almost too low to hear and as his fingers constricted, his mutters became clearer, "Not yet fucker." Lance lifted his head from Chris's shoulder and spoke in the voice that made even roadies leap to obey, "J, get yourself on the floor now. C, turn round and get ready for him." The other two followed Lance's instructions like he'd hypnotized them, Justin peeling himself away from Chris with a last kiss and sitting back on the floor. JC shifted position so he was lying on the floor, his face almost directly below the chair, ankles clasped about Justin's waist. Justin shuffled slightly until his cock lined up with JC's and then grasped both cocks in one large hand and began a slow stroke that had both himself and JC humming with pleasure.

Chris couldn't help shivering at the sight as Lance licked up his neck. "You're so fucking hot like this." Lance bit down on Chris's earlobe before continuing, his accent slurring. "J and C are gonna lay you out good an' proper till you can't think and then I'm gonna start an' lick you till you scream so hard they hear you in Alaska."

Chris's throat was dry; breath coming like an asthmatic steam train and it was all he could do to moan out a desperate "Please" as Lance pushed him forwards off the chair onto his hands and knees. Chris's knees hit the floor with a thud, but he was feeling no pain as JC's warm hands had hold of his hips, and his face was pressed into Justin's lap where Justin was still jerking himself and JC off, both cocks hard and leaking.

There was a moment of absolute stillness, like the second before a thunderclap, and then Joey groaned "Holy _shit_" in a voice an octave lower than his usual light baritone, and it was all on.

Chris's knees were shaking as JC pulled his hips down and Chris almost came on the spot as JC's tongue began licking up the underside of his cock, teasing stripes of warmth and heat that had Chris whining in the back of his throat. And then Justin grasped the back of Chris's neck in one hand and pulled Chris's mouth towards the two cocks jerking inside Justin's fist. Chris had a brief thought that Justin had fallen for the usual 'Chris has a big mouth' spiel a little too thoroughly, before he was trying to live up to the theory and gulp down both JC and Justin's dicks at once. It didn't quite work, but Justin's hand was there to provide real friction and Chris settled for desperately licking and sucking first one head then the other. He kept forgetting to breathe and the glowing shapes floating past whenever he closed his eyes all looked like a heaving, writhing, gorgeous mass of limbs, tongues, cocks and hands. Justin was chanting "fuck, fuck, fuck," like he'd forgotten every other word he'd ever known and it was merging with Joey's rhythmic grunts to form the filthiest techno beat ever.

And then JC pulled Chris even closer towards the floor and took his cock right in, Chris's dick bumping the back of JC's throat from the very first swallow. JC was moaning, and the vibration in combination with the tight heat of JC's mouth was bringing Chris closer and closer to the brink of coming. Chris's arms were shaking with the need to hold himself up, his hips were jerking more and more uncontrollably, and he was using every ounce of concentration he had to continue lapping at Justin and JC's cocks.

Somewhere, far away, Lance was saying something.

Everything stopped.

JC pushed Chris away, with a final lewd suck to Chris's cock-head. He was whimpering under his breath. Justin's hand stopped stroking and his litany of curses was replaced by a whine as he pushed Chris's head away from his lap. Even Joey's grunting quieted down. Chris was left with his hips jerking in mid-air. He felt bereft. Desperately horny, frustrated as _hell_, and bereft.

There was a scraping sound behind Chris and he would have turned his head to look but Justin ducked his head down to kiss him briefly before whispering something that sounded a little like "good luck".

Then strong, capable hands were running down Chris's sides, running over his butt, thumbs sliding over the crack before pulling his cheeks apart. Oh fuck. Fuck. Bass couldn't be. He wouldn't. There hadn't... Jesus _FUCK_. He was. He was, hewashewashewas... Wet, probing heat, tiny movements of Lance's tongue licking and swirling, and the whine at the back of Chris's throat turned into full-on sobbing for breath. He was desperately trying to buck backwards, but Lance's firm grip held him tight as Lance continued to lick, alternating between delicate lapping and a twisting probing that was opening Chris up and devastating any thought other than 'please'.

Someone was chanting it in time with Chris's breathing, and then Lance's tongue was replaced with first one slick finger, then two, scissoring out, breaching him. Chris's cock pulsed in time with the pleading, brief flashes of the aching stretch just keeping him from coming.

Dimly in the background Chris could hear Lance saying "Ready Jayce?" a murmured question from Justin, and Joey's familiar grunt as he came. Suddenly someone was holding his upper body up and kissing him. Sloppy, desperate, open-mouthed kisses mixed with whimpers. Justin. Then Lance's tongue was back working between his fingers and Chris's ability to hear shattered. All he could do was feel. Feel as Lance's tongue gave one final twisting delve and withdrew. Feel as Lance's fingers corkscrewed deep inside him then retreated. Feel as Lance's hands took firmer purchase on his hips, tilting them up to meet Lance's cock.

Then Lance began to press inside. A thick, slow drive past the first tight clenching and Chris was made of just one small inch of flesh that burned and throbbed, muscle pain combined with heavy pleasure. Lance stilled, waiting for the release of tension, and Chris could feel the tremor in Lance's thighs, the tension in his fingers. Chris took one breath, pulling it up from the deepest part of himself and felt his body give in. "Yes." Chris wasn't sure if he'd managed to say the word, but Lance heard his body and pushed, driving home.

The force of his first thrust pushed Chris towards the floor, and as Lance slowly pulled back, dragging sensation with him, Chris struggled to keep his knees from collapsing. Then Lance slammed back into him, reaching deep inside and sending sparks flying behind Chris's eyes. The slow drag back out was the longest two seconds in Chris's life, his thighs shaking with the tension. And then Lance was hammering back into him, and his knees gave up the ghost as another pair of hands caught his hips, breaking his fall. A lush mouth closed around Chris's aching dick and he tried to scream past the gasping breaths in his throat. Then there was nothing but Lance's dick in his ass and his dick between JC's lips, unable to figure out whether to jerk back into Lance's twisting, pounding thrusts or shove towards the heat of JC's eagerly sucking mouth. It felt like two seconds, two hours, two years before Chris felt Lance's hips begin to speed up and stutter, his final thrust and shout sending Chris flying into JC's welcoming mouth, everything tumbling away from him like freefall. No vision, no sound, nothing but gravity reclaiming him.

Coming back to himself was like waking up from a deep sleep. A deep sleep where every single muscle in his body had gotten an intense workout. Chris was lying face down on the floor of the bus, Lance a heavy blanket on top of him. Joey was fast asleep on the couch, limbs sprawled and a smile on his face. Justin had obviously managed to roll JC out from underneath Chris and the two of them were lying beside Chris writhing and kissing as they jerked each other off. Justin was panting, muttering "yes, fuck, yes," as JC changed the angle of his wrist, making Justin come with a shout that he smothered by biting into JC's neck. JC groaned under his breath and came all over Justin's chest. Their legs were all tangled up with each other and they kept kissing as their breathing slowed. It was pretty sweet really. For the end of an orgy.

Chris tried to grin, but the muscles in his face didn't want to work. Then Lance shifted on top of him and licked his ear, familiar rumbling voice setting off aftershocks like small electric currents in Chris's groin. Very small electric currents, completely unable to power anything more than a slightly hysterical giggle. "So, Kirkpatrick, are we going to need to play 'I Never' every time we want to jump you, or will you pick up the hint next time?"

**Author's Note:**

> For rikes (for providing sparkly footage), turps33 (to help her porn mojo return), and svilleficrecs (for really bloody good advice). Utter adoration (as usual) to woolly_socks who beta read even though moresomes are not her thing.


End file.
